


Shut Up and Drive

by Inell



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Post-Season 2, Pre-Slash, Rambling Stiles, Snark, Summer, Though There Isn't Magic in the Fic, canon fix it, missing moment, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 17:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7542340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles plays chauffeur to Derek during the search for Erica and Boyd. It’s totally bringing them closer together, even if Derek will deny it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shut Up and Drive

**Author's Note:**

> I've had a bit of a block lately, so I decided to try writing a canon fix it missing moment. Hope y'all enjoy!

“And _another_ dead end. This is just great.” Stiles hits his fist against the steering wheel in frustration and glares out the windshield at the empty woods surrounding Roscoe like it’s the trees’ fault that Erica and Boyd aren’t choosing them as the perfect hiding spot.

“It’s another place to mark off the list.” Derek is staring out the windshield when Stiles glances at him, and it’s obvious that he’s just as frustrated. Probably even more so because it’s his betas running around out here somewhere.

The thing is, Stiles isn’t really the comforting type. He can’t force the empty platitudes past his tongue because he knows it’s a bunch of bullshit intended to make someone feel better in a situation that sucks ass. And not in that kinky fun way he’s seen in porn, but in a horrible way that a bunch of false comfort isn’t going to fix. He still remembers hearing all those kind of words after his mom died, and not a single one of them made it any better or brought her back. The only thing that had made him feel even slightly better was when Scott forced him to go outside and encouraged him to kick a fallen tree stump until Stiles almost broke his foot.

Obviously, Derek’s too old to go kicking trees as a way to channel his anger and frustration at losing two of his betas. Instead, he’s putting it all into the search, not even sleeping much judging by the dark circles under his eyes and the way his face seems to be even thinner than usual. Not eating, Stiles suspects, too focused on finding Erica and Boyd to take care of himself. Maybe even deliberately _not_ taking care cause of guilt or self-blame. Stiles has discovered over the past few weeks that Derek has this whole complex thing going on where he takes responsibility for every shit thing that happens in the lives of those around him whether he’s to blame or not.

It’s pretty infuriating, in all honesty, so Stiles is trying to figure out ways to help Derek realize he does deserve nice things, but it’s not necessarily working all that great because Stiles is an asshole. Wanting to help some poor dude stop carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders isn’t assholey at all, so he’s not really sure how to go about it in any way that doesn’t piss Derek off or make things worse. Still, he figures it’s good to be trying, if nothing else, and it gives him something good to focus on when everything else is a bit shitty right now.

Great. Now his inner monologue is starting to sound like Miss Morrell, which isn’t necessarily a good thing because Stiles isn’t entirely sure he trusts her, even if she’s an improvement over Dr. Cryptic aka Deaton. She sought him out after the whole Gerard Argent mess, talking about his spark and magic potential as well as his obvious need for guidance that her brother wasn’t providing, and he’s been meeting with her twice a week since. She’s teaching him a lot of useful stuff, like psychological breakthrough things as well as stuff that makes him feel a little bit like Harry Potter. She’s the one who told him to find some positive goals for the summer, and probably part of the reason why he keeps trying to pull a Dr. Phil on Derek, even if it’s just in his own head.

It’s too quiet for too long, and Stiles realizes that he’s been lost in his thoughts more than is probably appropriate given the current situation. He tends to help distract Derek from the fact they aren’t any closer to finding Erica and Boyd yet by talking a lot, which is something he’s actually _really_ good at, and Derek doesn’t seem to mind the rambling all that much. Even if he still snarls occasionally to keep up appearances as the Big Bad Alpha.

“We’re gonna eventually run out of places on that list,” Stiles points out, glancing at Derek as he says it. He watches Derek’s jaw tighten and a nerve start to twitch, which makes him sigh and run his fingers over his head.

Instead of feeling the soft buzz brushing against his fingers, though, there’s actually soft hair starting to grow. The couple of weeks post-Geriatric Torture Session had been filled with the end of school and trying to figure out what the fuck had happened, and the few weeks since school had ended has been spent playing chauffer to an openly ungrateful (but secretly grateful, he suspects) alpha, sessions with Morrell, reading a bunch of old books about magic, and trying to figure out what the fuck’s happening with this symbol on Derek’s door. There’s a lot of time spent trying to figure shit out lately, and the worst part is that nothing really seems to get answered.

“There’re still quite a few areas we haven’t checked.” Derek looks at them, eyes flashing red and lips curling into an all too familiar half-snarl. “I can do this on my own, you know? I’m only here because you insisted on helping.”

“I’m here because we’re pack,” Stiles says simply, watching Derek’s face as a mixture of emotions crosses it before it becomes the usual stoic ‘I am an island and don’t need anyone’ expression that’s a big old lie. Derek _does_ need people, especially with whatever this alpha pack threat thing is, and Stiles is people. He’s not first choice, that’d be Scott, but Scott’s stuck in summer school and mourning the latest tragic romance trope happening with Allison and becoming BFFs with Isaac.

Hell, he’s not even second choice, since that’d likely be Isaac, who is treating Derek like every fucked up problem in the world is somehow his fault and blaming Derek for Erica and Boyd leaving and trying to steal Stiles’ title as Scott McCall’s BFF Platonic Soulmate Forever and Forever, which won’t ever happen because Stiles and Scott are blood brothers and no one will ever get between them, especially not some snarky puppy. Despite all that, Stiles knows Isaac is actually looking for them, too. He’s just refusing to bond with Derek over it, which is helping with the whole Derek Feeling Guilty About This, Too™ thing that’s happening.

Judging from Derek’s typical reaction to Stiles sort of forcing himself into this search, he thinks he might be more like fiftieth choice, somewhere behind the librarian who always lets Derek into the special collections while giving Stiles suspicious looks but slightly ahead of the blonde who works at the gas station who pops gum and stares at Derek’s chest like she wants to lick it. Really, he’s probably lucky that Derek didn’t ignore his stubborn insistence on helping with the search. Not that Stiles wouldn’t have been out on his own anyway since it’s Erica and Boyd.

“We’re not pack,” Derek grumbles finally, after several moments of complete silence that let Stiles start actually making lists of all the people Derek would probably rather search with other than him. He definitely thinks he’s above RePeter, but the whole blood relative thing might trump being a creepy undead werewolf murdering zombie.

“Sure we are.” Stiles knows Derek’s protesting because he’s decided he doesn’t deserve a pack because, well, he really did sort of suck as an alpha, but it’s not like anyone took the time to give him lessons or teach him how to handle the instincts. Stiles is trying to remember that so he doesn’t tease in a way that becomes downright cruel instead of snarky asshole. “Dude, don’t even start with me. I’ve saved your ass more than once already, you’re the only alpha in town so Scott’s going to have to eventually pull his head out of his ass and join your pack or else risk being an omega when this alpha pack circus rolls into town which I’m totally not going to allow to happen, you know I’m dealing with some magic shit that’ll totally make me useful and not just the comic relief human sidekick to whoever the hero is in this drama we call our lives, and I actually like Erica and Boyd when they’re not posturing and trying to kill me.”

“Do you ever stop to take a breath?” Derek’s face is doing that twitchy snarling thing that usually means Stiles is poking at the sleeping wolf. Or amusing it. Sometimes, it’s difficult to tell which one.

In the nearly five weeks they’ve spent arguing about searching, reluctantly (on Derek’s part) agreeing to work together, and driving around notching up miles on Roscoe, Stiles has started to really observe and pay attention to Derek’s tells in a way he never took the time to do before because, well, there hadn’t really been a chance. Life and death mixed with Scott and Allison’s tragic romance (seriously, Stiles is going to force Scott to write a fucking essay about how Romeo and Juliet is _not_ the romantic archetype anyone with a brain wants to reenact because _they both die at the end_ ) combined with the kanima and torture by Creepy Old Bad Touch Grandpa and the whole zombie Uncle Bad Touch (what is it with old dudes and bad touching sarcastic teenage boys in this town?) hadn’t really left much time for personality analysis and observation.

“You can’t be pack unless I invite you, and I don’t recall issuing any invitations.” Derek scowls at him, his eyebrows having a conversation that Stiles doesn’t understand yet. “It’s only noon. We have time to go check out Riverdale before heading back to Beacon Hills. If you want.”

“Actually, you totally did invite me. It had RSVP in glitter and shiny purple ink,” Stiles says, reaching for the folded up map they’re using for their search. While he’d wanted to just use an app and map everything on his phone, Derek’s an old man trapped in the hot body of a twenty-two year old who could easily be a model or a gay porn star, both of which are possibly fantasies Stiles has had during some very eye opening jerk off sessions in recent months (hello bisexuality, my name’s Stiles nice to meet you).

“I hate glitter,” Derek mutters. He shifts in his seat, his leather jacket making a sort of crackling sound that Stiles finds slightly distracting. His ears twitch but he keeps his attention on the paper map because Derek’s the type to deliberately make an annoying noise as payback if he realizes it’s going to drive Stiles crazy. Big bad alpha is just a cover for bratty sarcastic nerd, though Stiles isn’t planning on making that particular observation known because Derek might very well follow through with his favorite threat involving his teeth, Stiles’ neck, and ripping.

“Glitter is an evil invention created to wreak havoc on the masses and to possibly punish people who choose to either go into the teaching profession or choose to procreate. Teaching is thankless enough in this country with the budget cuts, constant oversight by political interests, standardizing testing that’s ruined the classroom, and students that act like demon spawn, so the glitter is just like a step too far, in my opinion.” Stiles makes a mark on the map showing they’ve checked the woods around Beacon Hollow before checking the distance to Riverdale.

“It was probably created by fairies. They like to cause problems and get off on mischief making.” Derek looks out the window rather quickly when Stiles looks up at him, but he could swear that Derek’s lip had been curved upward in amusement before he turned his head.

“Not like Tinkerbell, huh?” Stiles considers it. “Though, really, she was jealous and spiteful, so perhaps Disney is more accurate than they realize.” He folds the map back up and tosses it on Derek’s lap. “We’re about thirty minutes away from Riverdale. Do you know where they might be in that area? Should I head towards the woods or the coast?”

“If I knew, I’d have found them already.” And, okay, great. Any slight relaxation and humor that Derek might have discovered in the past ten minutes is now officially gone. Great job, Stiles. 10 out of 10 do not do again. Derek is back to the tense snarling frustration that seems to be his norm these days. “They’re out here somewhere, Stiles. And we need to find them before someone else does.”

“What if someone else already has?” Stiles has been wanting to ask since the first day they went searching. “Is there some kind of wolfy bond between you three that lets you know they’re alive and safe? Because, if not, they might be prisoners of some hunters or something as dangerous. Or they might be…” He trails off and tightens his grip on his steering wheel because he can’t finish that thought. There’s already been so much death in the last few months. He doesn’t want to think about losing anyone else, especially not people he thinks could have been friends.

“They aren’t,” Derek says sharply, red flooding his eyes again as he glares at Stiles, like it’s somehow his fault Derek didn’t do well as an alpha at first and pushed his betas so much they ran away. Hell, even if he’d been around, it’s not like he’d have known how to be a better alpha or could have interfered in it at all. He’s human, and he’s got a personality that tends to alienate instead of being all warm and fuzzy like the betas probably needed to balance Derek’s growling demands. Derek stares at him for a moment before the red fades from his eyes. “I can feel that they’re alive, but I don’t know if they’re safe.”

“Well, alive is good. Right?” Stiles hates the squidgy feeling of guilt that nags at him when Derek looks lost and uncertain before quickly concealing it behind the resting bitch face that seems to be his idea of effective alphaness. Derek might be an old man trapped in that smoking hot young package, but he really is young. Stiles keeps forgetting that because of the alpha thing and how he feels sort of immature and foolish trying to handle all this shit.

Derek’s only six years older than him, though. Twenty-two isn’t ancient or wise or all-knowing by any means. God, he really wishes they had other people around to help them sometimes. Maybe an actual adult, someone who isn’t suffering from a bunch of tragic life events and thus is emotionally stunted in some ways like Derek. But Isaac’s staying away, Jackson’s got a bunch of his own shit to deal with, and Uncle Creepster is actually being useful by tracing down some leads via technology. And Scott’s still not at a point where he can accept being part of Derek’s pack, plus he’s in summer school anyway, so Stiles is totally not going to fuck up his future by pulling him into this right now.

Looking at Derek, Stiles bites his lip before sighing. “If we don’t find them in the area marked, we’ll just expand the search range. They’ve got to be around here somewhere or else your wolfy tracking system probably wouldn’t be getting a read on them anyway.” He sounds way more confident than he feels. “Erica’s incredibly strong and brave, you know? Even before the wolfy transformation, she was strong. She didn’t realize it, and, well, none of us did, but looking back, I can see it. And Boyd’s not going to let anything happen to either of them if there’s any way he can keep them safe. I mean, hunters or something scarier could have them, in which case there’s probably some bad shit going down but, uh, I mean. We’ll find them, okay?”

“You suck at pep talks.” Derek snorts, rolling his eyes as he looks back out the windshield. “Let’s get to Riverdale. I have a meeting at seven that I can’t miss.”

“A meeting?” Stiles makes a face as he puts Roscoe into drive and heads out of the National Forest at Beacon Hollow. He taps his fingers against the steering wheel as he drives south towards Riverdale. “Is that what you’re calling your little training sessions with Jackson now? Is Lizard Breath getting any better at the control thing? He’s going to need the whole positive reinforcement approach, you realize? He’s got this need to be the best at everything, and he gets off on praise, which is one reason I never understood how he and Lydia really worked because she is not one for stroking egos.”

“He’s improving, and don’t call him Lizard Breath. He can’t help that the kanima possessed him,” Derek says, his tone firm in an alpha sort of way that makes Stiles tingle. The good sort of tingle because Stiles is obviously into the whole firm alpha thing. Or maybe he’s just into Derek. It’s a question to analyze at a different time, though, so he stops focusing on it. “Positive reinforcement? Seriously? Stiles, you can’t stand him, so do you really think I’m going to accept your advice on how best to handle his training?”

“Dude, you can listen or not. I don’t really care.” Stiles shrugs a shoulder. “But you don’t know everything. Like did you know Jackson and I were best friends when we first met in daycare? All the way into second grade, in fact, but then I beat him in a spelling bee, and he sulked about it, so I ate lunch with Scott, and, well. Jackson doesn’t like feeling like second best. He’s not used to it, not like I am, so he considered it me ending our friendship or some melodramatic shit like that because baby Jackson was into dramatics just as much as teenage Jackson, and he made sure I knew he was better than me anyway. Bullying is ridiculously cliché but effective when it comes to knowing exactly where to aim to hurt most.”

“Sorry,” Derek mutters, shifting in his seat again and scowling out the front windshield. “He’s trying very hard, and he definitely wants to succeed. He’s worried, though, because his parents are talking about sending him out of the country to live with some aunt he only vaguely remembers. He doesn’t want to go to London, so he’s trying to please them while adjusting to everything. He also feels the loss of pack, even if he’s not ready to acknowledge that yet.”

“Huh.” Stiles frowns at that because, honestly, Derek sort of needs Jackson because of the whole pack thing. Everyone else has left, in one way or another, but Jackson’s actually seeking out guidance from his alpha and, from what Stiles can gather, is attempting to do the werewolf thing properly. Maybe Lydia knows more about it. It’s not like Stiles can just drop by and ask Jackson, after all, but he and Lydia have tentatively developed a friendship. Not really a friendship, but sort of acquaintanceship, at least. It could become friendship, with a bit of time and more bonding over supernatural craziness. Stiles starts plotting a few possible courses of action in the back of his head and focuses his primary attention on driving. “Well, we’ll just make sure his parents don’t send him anywhere. Anyway, tonight, you should totally pat his head and call him a good boy sometime to see if I’m right.”

“Dog jokes aren’t funny nor are they cute.” Derek huffs before his elbow hits Stiles’ arm totally on purpose. “And you talk too much. I can’t even get headaches yet you’re somehow making it possible for me to understand what they are and why humans always complain about suffering through them.”

“Ha. Ha. You’re so funny,” Stiles deadpans, letting go of his gear shift long enough to punch Derek’s leg. “You know you love listening to me talk. That’s why you’re always breaking into my room like a creeper wolf to get my advice or input into the crazy shit that happens in our lives. Don’t front, Derek. I’m definitely your favorite. Not that that means too much when my competition right now is Uncle Bad Touch and Godzilla Wannabe.”

Instead of disputing Stiles’ claim, Derek just deliberately reaches over to turn on the radio. He has the audacity to turn the station until music starts playing that sounds like stuff Stiles’ dad listens to, which just supports the whole old man trapped in the muscular yumminess of hot young bod. Stiles recognizes the song from a television commercial, something about slow rides that he can tap his fingers along to. Derek arches a brow and smirks, which totally doesn’t _do things_ to Stiles (it totally does but denial is a wonderful thing). Derek seems to smirk even more, which means he probably _knows_ what it’s doing to Stiles, and, well, that’s also another possibility to analyze at a different time.

“I don’t have any favorites, but I suppose you’re tolerable. Sometimes.” Derek looks out the window, his smirk curving into a slight smile. “Now shut up and drive, Stiles. Please. We’ve got pack members to find. The sooner, the better.”

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://inell.tumblr.com)


End file.
